


Making an Angel Fall

by LilithReisender (Lilith_Queen_Of_Demons)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale gets kidnapped by hell, Aziraphale is a bit oblivious, Could be TV, Could be book, Crowley is a lovestruck idiot, Crowley to the rescue- ish, Either way these idiots are in love, First Kiss, Hastur - Freeform, I don't specify, Kidnapping, M/M, Other, lots and lots of alcohol, lying, not quite hurt/comfort but pretty much, seriously, slight argument
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 12:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19463905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilith_Queen_Of_Demons/pseuds/LilithReisender
Summary: Crowley has been hopelessly in love with Aziraphale for the past few millennia. So, when Aziraphale asks Crowley to come pick him up at the bookshop for a surprise dinner because they "need to talk about something." Crowley assumes that Aziraphale has finally discovered Crowley's feelings and is going to reject him. When Crowley gets to the bookshop, he immediately knows something is wrong, but he is too late. He got there just in time to see Aziraphale taken right in front of him. What the heaven is he supposed to do now other than rescue his angel?





	Making an Angel Fall

**Author's Note:**

> The kidnapped fic that nobody asked for. I just couldn't get the idea out of my head, and before I knew it, I was writing again for the first time in a few months. I just love these two. This works with both book and TV cannon as I don't think I specified anything.

It started the way many unfortunate events start, with a phone call. It rang once before Crowley answered it. There were very few people who knew that number, and none who would call him so late- save one.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley answered, not even looking at the ID.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice sounded muffled through the old phone, “Would you like to go to dinner with me this evening. There’s something- something rather important I think we- I need to talk about.” Aziraphale was speaking remarkably faster than normal.

“Course angel, you all right? You sound stressed.”

“Something like that, listen, can you come pick me up that the bookshop? I’ll tell you where we are going when you get here.”

“All right then, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

_What could that have been about,_ thought Crowley as he raced around his flat. He didn’t actually need ten minutes to get to the bookshop, the Bentley could get there in three, but he wanted the extra time to prepare. He grabbed one of his many black jackets and made sure he looked as sharp as always (vanity _was_ a sin after all, one in which Crowley excelled) and made sure to talk to his plants, daring them to slack off while he was gone. The moment he stepped into the Bentley was the moment his mind began to wander. While three minutes may not seem like a lot of time for a human, Crowley could have an entire conversation with himself.

_Why would Aziraphale call me over so suddenly._ Crowley thought, barely paying attention to the road in front of him. _He can’t know about- he can’t know that I-_ Crowley’s head began to spin with all the possible ways this evening could go wrong. You see, Crowley was different from most demons in many ways other than his imagination; Crowley still had the ability to love, which he considered a curse from the almighty. He had loved Aziraphale for thousands of years, and had hated himself for every single one. Because never, in six thousand years, did he think that there was even a chance that Aziraphale would ever love him back, not in the same way. His biggest fear had become Aziraphale figuring out how he felt, which was what led to him having a near panic attack in his car while driving to the bookshop. He imagined countless rejections simply while putting the car in park in front of the shop.

_“I’m sorry Crowley, I just do not feel the same. I think we should suspend our friendship indefinitely._

_“You disgust me, a Demon in love with an Angel? We are hereditary enemies who come together under an Arrangement and nothing more._

_“I cannot love a Demon, let alone you.”_

By the time Crowley stepped out of the car he had pulled himself together. In the seconds when he opened the car door, he had come to the conclusion that, no matter what happened tonight, he would tell the angel how he felt. For the time being, neither Heaven nor Hell was watching them, and Crowley had decided that if this was his only chance, he was going to take it.

Crowley sauntered into the bookshop as if he had _not_ just had a panic attack in the three minutes and twenty-four seconds* it had taken him to get there

*there had been a child in the road, and Crowley (or possibly the Bentley) could not bring himself to risk harming it

“Aziraphale?” He called out as he opened the door. “For the love of Satan will you please-“a sudden odor distracted Crowley mid-sentence. He knew that smell, it was the same one that he had been avoiding as much as possible since he had Fallen; it was exactly what Hell smelled like. Suddenly all other thoughts escaped him other than _Aziraphale!_

Crowley ran to the back room, images of the burning bookshop flashing through his mind, and slammed open the door.

“Aziraphale!” The angle was, at that moment, bound and gagged by what looked to have once been one of his own scarves, and was being held by one of the people- well, demons Crowley hated most: Hastur. Aziraphale’s eyes widened in shock when he registered that Crowley had entered the room, and he began to shake his head quickly, fighting to get the gag off of his face.

“Crowley,” Hastur spat. “I was not expecting to find you here, of all places, coming to an angel's aid, though I cannot say I am surprised. Trying to go back to heaven, are we?” Crowley decided to ignore that.

“Hastur,” Crowley said coolly, trying to hide what was going on in his head* “If you harm him, I swear to Satan and the Allmighty herself, I will-

*which consisted of a very graphic image of Crowley drowning Hastur in a vat of Holy Water.

“Love to stay and chat, but unfortunately for you, the angel and I have an appointment downstairs.” And while it would be accurate to say they were gone in the blink of an eye, Crowley had not blinked at all, they were simply there one millisecond, and gone the next.

Crowley stared into the empty space, seemingly unable to process what had happened right in front of him. He refused to believe that he had lost Aziraphale again. It had not even been a month since Crowley had run in to the burning bookshop and had lost any sense of hope he had for the coming Armageddon; so, when he saw Aziraphale kidnapped again, he refused to believe it had happened. Crowley waited for a second, his eyes glancing from item to item in the room as if Aziraphale might suddenly reappear. When he didn’t, Crowley’s mind began to catch up with reality.

“Oh shit!”

And within a moment Crowley was in hell. It was as full, depressing, damp and, well- hellish as always. Crowley did not even bother scanning the crowd for Aziraphale, time in hell rearranged itself constantly so that no matter where you were going or coming from, you were always Too Late. So, even though Crowley had left just a minute after Aziraphale was taken, Crowley knew he had no chance to get to him before anything happened. Crowley began to shove through the crowd, pushing demons and other various creatures to his sides as he frantically searched for any sign* of Aziraphale.

*Crowley had always been able to sort of _sense_ Aziraphale whenever he was around. The angel _felt_ the same way one feels when they receive a hug from a close friend whom they hadn’t seen in a very long time. Or the feeling of calm one has when looking at the stars at night. It was a hard feeling to describe, but it was recognizable.

It was that same feeling that Crowley was searching for now as he shoved through the pack of demons. After what felt like hours of fruitless searching Crowley began to feel Aziraphale again. It was quite literally the only feeling of light in the darkness, and Crowley followed that light directly to its source, Room 13. _Shit._ Room 13 was Hell’s second-main torture room.

There was no barging into the room. Hell had an open-door policy so that multiple demons could join the torturing fun whenever they felt like it. Crowley slowly opened the door and shut it behind him. There, in the middle of the room, was Aziraphale. He was unconscious with his head tilted forward. Though he was still gagged, now he was professionally cuffed to a metal chair in the middle of the room. The chair was covered in faintly-glowing sigils, which Crowley assumed were keeping the angel subdued. There was a thin ring of hellfire encircling the entire trap, making it so that no matter what happened Aziraphale could not escape. Crowley felt a red-hot anger build up in him which he quickly pushed aside. He couldn’t afford to get reckless. He was able to simply step over the ring of flames and knelt down in front of Aziraphale, carefully untying the gag from around the Angel’s face.

_“Aziraphale!”_ Crowley whispered, placing his hands on the angel’s arms, “Come on angel, wake up. Please, please wake up.” Aziraphale stirred, but did not wake. Crowley took the angel’s face in his hands. “For hell’s sake _wake up_ Aziraphale!” The angel’s eyes fluttered open and Crowley dropped his hands back to Aziraphale’s arms.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, dazed, “Where are we?” He looked around at the room, and seemed to just notice the fact that he was trapped. He began to struggle against the cuffs of the chair.

“Aziraphale- Aziraphale stop! It won’t work, this chair is designed to hold angels, your powers won’t work while you’re in it. We’re in hell. Hastur he- he took you here from the shop. I got there to late to-” he took a deep breath, “It doesn’t matter. We’re going to get out of this.”

“Well, getting me out of this chair might be a good start.” Aziraphale grumbled.

“I can’t, not yet. The amount of energy required… if someone came in while I was… we would both be as good as dead. We need to get out of here freely.”

“And _how_ exactly, do you suppose we do that?” Crowley could hear footsteps right in front of the door.

“Aziraphale, you _need_ to follow my lead on this one. Pretend to be asleep still.” Aziraphale looked at him apprehensively, then closed his eyes and tilted his head forwards. As the door opened, Crowley crouched down and pretended to be taking off the gag once again.

“Crowley! I should have known it would be a matter of time before _you_ showed up.” Sneered Hastur as he entered the room, “Come to rescue your little angel, have you?”

_Think think think think think, Crowley! What should you say? You have to say something otherwise Hastur will think-_

"You absolute idiot! Do you have any idea what you might have just done? You might have ruined my whole mission! Six-thousand years of work for nothing!" Crowley hissed, "Our Master is going to be very upset when he finds out about this."

"Mission? You are alienated from Hell. You have no mission!"

"That you knew of. You think our Lord would just tell everybody about this? No. I had to keep it secret, until YOU ruined everything."

"I… don’t understand."

"Hastur, what is it, exactly, that we do?"

"Temptations. Bringing souls for our Master."

"Yes, and who are our immortal enemies?"

"Angels," he cast a hate-filled glance at Aziraphale.

"So, what would be the biggest upset to heaven?" He paused, spreading his arms for dramatic effect, "Tempting an angel. Making one Fall." There was a pause as Hastur considered it.

"You mean to tell me, that your mission for 6,000 years was to make an angel fall? But, how?"

"In my case, it was easier to make him Fall in _love_ first. Tempt the angel, make it so that he would do anything for me, make him _doubt_ Heaven's plans, begins to _question_ things. Then, comes the part where he begins to Fall. And I was ALMOST there. I would have succeeded had it not been for you, you daft bastard."

"I don't believe you. This is another one of your tricks." Hastur grumbled uncertainly.

"Oh, let me wake him and you will see. Go, somewhere he can’t see you, I'll prove it."

Hastur decided that turning into a maggot* was the necessary form for this. After all, there were plenty of bugs in hell, what was one more?

*The subtlety of the plan was ruined, however, when the maggot he turned into was LIME GREEN.

Crowley was satisfied, having Hastur out of sight for a moment. He leaned down to undo the Angel's bindings, and gently pretended to wake him up again. Aziraphale, to his own credit, was able to follow along with Crowley's plan. When he stood up, he smiled at Crowley like he was once of Aziraphale's favorite books.

"Thank you, my dear." He said, standing up and rubbing his wrists."

"Are you all right angel?" Crowley asked, both honestly and for the sake of the performance. He pulled the angel in to a brief hug and then stepped back, allowing himself to keep a light grip on Aziraphale's shoulders.

"Quite all right, now that you are here." Crowley snapped his fingers and the ring of hellfire was gone.

"Come along now angel, I can get us back home without anyone noticing." He glanced at the single green maggot on the ground, hoping Aziraphale would get the message of _"That one green bugger right there."_ Aziraphale took a quick glance, and nodded. Crowley was about to do something small, like grab the angel's hand, or give him another pet name. Aziraphale took it one step further. Before Crowley could properly turn around so they could _get the Heaven out of this place_ , Aziraphale grabbed the lapels of Crowley's jacket and pulled him down for a very unexpected and very soft kiss. Crowley stiffened for just a moment, before mentally saying _"Fuck it, I'm probably never going to get to do this again, might as well do it now,"_ and kissing Aziraphale back with a little bit more force than necessary, but Crowley would be dammed again if he didn’t take full advantage of the situation. He allowed his hands to rest on the angel's hips and pulled him closer until there was almost no room between them. Aziraphale pulled away slowly, as if he didn't actually want to. _No,_ Crowley thought, _don't go there._

"Now my dear, you said something about getting us home?" Aziraphale grinned and a wicked light came into his eyes. "Maybe then I can thank you, properly." Crowley, to his own dismay, blushed far harder than he should have, given the circumstances. He took the angel's hand, lacing their fingers, and promptly stopped all time for everyone in Hell other than himself and Hastur.

"You see, Hastur, I told you. Made the angel fall in love with me. Made him give into temptation, to _sin._ He shall join our ranks soon enough." Hastur, who had returned to human form while Crowley was talking, considered this.

"I… must say I am, impressed, with your work Crowley. I never expected to see an _Angel_ with a _Demon_ in such a way. And, making an angel to give into _lust_ of all things? Most… commendable. I predict, within a decade, we shall have a new demon in our ranks for the first time in centuries."

"Yes, yes, may we go now? I'm not sure how much longer I can hold onto this moment in time." Hastur left the room quickly and time began to flow normally* again.

*well, as normally as time flows in the first place

Crowley looked down at his hand, which was still laced between Aziraphale's fingers.

"Ready to go home now, angel?" Aziraphale nodded, and suddenly they were back in the bookshop.

Neither of them moved for a moment, they simply stood there in the empty shop holding hands, until Aziraphale cleared his throat and let go, mumbling something about making sure they hadn't damaged the books, leaving Crowley suddenly very alone in the front room of the bookshop. Crowley looked down at his clothes, his normally pristine jacket now smelled of sulphur and was spotted with something that may or may not have been slime from a leaky pipe. While it was salvable, it was probably best that he didn't go walking around Aziraphale's precious bookshop while covered in the remnants of Hell, the angel might kill him (well, not kill, but badger and look at him very uncomfortably for a bit until saying something about wanting to go outside). Crowley miracled himself a new outfit that was pretty much the same thing he had on but with a slightly nicer jacket. The angel still had not come back into the room, though Crowley could vaguely hear some muffled noise from the back where Aziraphale was puttering about. Crowley did the only thing possible for him to do at the time and sat down on one of the chairs, closing his eyes. Immediately, he began to think over what had happened not ten minutes ago. Aziraphale captured and bound like one of Crowley's worst nightmares. Aziraphale, looking at Crowley like he was the best thing in the world. Aziraphale kissing _him_. How Aziraphale had only reluctantly pulled away. It was almost too much. And then he just… walked away. Left Crowley alone in the shop. _He must be disgusted with me,_ Crowley thought. He shook his head, trying to clear his head.

Aziraphale wandered back into the room, startling Crowley out of his thoughts. Aziraphale, it seemed, had decided to change his outfit as well, meaning it was the exact same thing he always wore only without the jacket. He had a bottle of wine in one hand and two wine glasses in the other, which he set down on the table with a bit more force than usual. Aziraphale said nothing as he poured the wine into both glasses and drained his and was pouring another before Crowley had even touched the glass. Aziraphale took a sip of his second glass before speaking to Crowley.

"Take off those damned glasses will you?" Crowley couldn't help it, he started to laugh. Aziraphale glared at him, taking another sip of wine.

"Of all the things," Crowley said, taking his glasses of and setting them on the table, "that you could have said, after what just happened, the first thing you say is _"Take off the damned glasses?"_ " Aziraphale's face softened and his lips curled up into a small smile.

"I guess it is sort of funny," he mused, "I just- I need to be able to _see_ you."

"Well, you've got me," was all Crowley said as he quickly finished his glass and began to pour another one.

"Is-" Aziraphale started, "Is it always like that? I didn't see much when they took me there for the trial, but I- I thought it-"

"Yes," Crowley interrupted, "It is _always_ like that. Since the beginning of time. Now you see why I like it up here?" Aziraphale nodded. They sat there in silence for a few more minutes, each taking a few more sips of wine before talking at the same time.

"Were you being ho-

"Why did you ki-

"You first," Crowley said, both wanting to and not wanting to hear what Aziraphale had to say. Aziraphale cleared his throat before speaking again.

"Were you being honest when you were talking to Hastur? About making me Fall?" He took another sip, "About making me fall in love with you?" Crowley stared at him for a second. Of all the things he thought Aziraphale would ask, that had not been one of them. *

*Crowley had expected something along the lines of _“Why did you not leave me there? Aren’t you supposed to hate me? Hereditary enemies? I know I would have left you had our situations been reversed.”_

"No- no. Maybe once that was true, I did _try_ and tempt you to make you fall, but not for millennia. And, as for the _other_ bit, I was just thinking on my feet."

"Oh," was all Aziraphale said. There was a heavy silence in the room before Crowley spoke.

"Might as well talk about the elephant in the room," Crowley sighed, "You kissed me." Aziraphale nodded.

"Why?"

"I was just playing along with what you said. Trying to convince Hastur-"

"Bullshit!" Crowley exploded, he stood up and walked away from the table. Aziraphale looked taken aback. "That is complete and utter bullshit and both of us know it."

"Crowley?"

"You call me over here, saying we "needed to talk about something rather important" then you get kidnapped, then you bloody kiss me, which we both know was not necessary. You could have done something far less grand and Hastur would have been convinced. So why? What made you think of that?"

"If I recall correctly _you_ were the one who took it a bit further," Aziraphale mumbled into his cup. "But, if we are going to be honest with one another, it has- well, it has a bit to do with why I called you over here in the first place." He looked at Crowley a bit guiltily. "This was _not_ how I imagined saying this. I had things planned. I-"

"Oh, spit it out already." Aziraphale stood up to face Crowley, who was looking at him expectantly.

"Crowley,” Aziraphale pleaded, “surely you must know by now."

"Know? What I _know_ is that I have been wanting kiss you like that for a few thousand years, and I haven't. What I know is that I wanted to run away with you, where no one could see us, and maybe, just maybe, I could tell you, and you said no. What I _know_ ," he took a deep breath before continuing, "is that in the past month I have watched my best friend, the only person who I have _ever_ loved die and come back only to be taken away from me again!" Aziraphale stared at him, mouth slightly open in shock.

Crowley had sudden realization of what exactly he had just said.

"Fuck it," said Crowley for the second time that day as he walked over to the angel and gently rested his hands on either side of the angel's face. And, for the second time that day, Crowley kissed Aziraphale. It was desperate and a bit messy, but what surprised Crowley was when Aziraphale kissed him back with matched desperation, moving his hands until they were resting on Crowley's lower back. This went on for a bit longer, with Crowley having pushed Aziraphale against one of the bookshelves with no memory of having done so. Crowley pulled away first, leaving their foreheads touching. Neither of them said anything, they just stood there, together.

"I love you too, Crowley." Aziraphale said, not opening his eyes. "I have for decades- at least, probably centuries. I was too afraid to say it for so long, then the apocalypse happened- er, didn't happen, and I realized, I needed to tell you before the next one. While I still had the chance.

“That’s why I called you over. I was going to tell you. We were going to go to dinner. We were- “Shut up,” Crowley muttered, kissing him again. He smiled against the Angel's lips.

"How incompetent are we," he muttered, "a demon in love with an angel,"

"Well, at least you can say you succeeded,"

"In what?"

"Making an angel fall,"

Aziraphale smiled, and for that moment, there was no heaven watching over them, no hell spying on them. It was just them together, and everything was good.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it to the end of this, thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, found an error, or just want to talk about these two idiots, please comment or leave Kudos. It makes me feel a lot better about my writing. Thank you again!


End file.
